The Eyes that Judge
by Border42
Summary: Taylor Judges Good and Evil, and doesn't make many friends. Also, the PRT minorly explodes in the background. *Discontinued*
1. Chapter 1

The Eyes that Judge 1.1

Worm/Touhou Project

I smiled internally; time to make the world a better place.

Despite the pointlessness of the act, my power wouldn't let me make such a mistake in a situation like this, I checked over my pistol.

Some might call it nervousness, and they might even be correct – the act of killing, no matter how deserved, still bothered me to an extent even now – but I was resolved.

Two minutes until I reached it.

Even with the inevitable deaths that followed, these moments when I can completely suffuse myself in my power are the best moments of my life now days. It imparts such a sense of confidence – both that I will succeed and that I am making the world a better place in doing so – that it makes up for any amount of school.

One minute.

I glanced at the pistol once more. I had never used one before – all my previous acts were done with knives – but I had kept around all the unsavory weaponry I could keep, simply because you never know when it might come in use.

And now, it had.

I stood before a building. I didn't know what was in it, nor did I care. All that I knew was that there were evil people doing evil acts in there.

My power guided my approach, foot falls perfectly performed such that no one could notice my approach.

I pressed my pistol against the thin wooden door, and waited five seconds.

I fired, pressing my hand against the door at the same time.

A choked scream sounded inside as the door shot open.

I smoothly stepped inside, a squirming man clutching his throat on the ground before me. If only he had refrained from evil acts, this wouldn't have been his fate.

As is, I felt no pity for the evil man, only satisfaction that there was a bit less evil in the world.

There was no one else in the room, I stepped around the squirming man and calmly walked upstairs.

Step by step I walked up the stairs, skipping steps that I assumed were squeaky or trapped here and there. The rest may already know I am here, but that was no reason to give away my position.

I reached the final step, opened the door, and spun on my heel.

The arm holding my gun came up, and I began to pull the trigger.

An intricate demon mask filled my vision an instant before the pull.

The shot fired, and the demon mask collapsed around the incoming bullet.

The man fell to the ground.

I smiled internally. Oni Lee, must be the ABB. And to get a Parahuman of all things... Today was a good day.

I wasn't finished yet, however. Another turn, and found myself faced with three terrified ABB thugs.

"Oh-oh god. N-not her." Stuttered one, hand shaking so badly he would _never_ be able to hit her.

I turned my body sideways, and raised my gun again.

They panicked, and began firing wildly.

Not a single bullet hit me either, as I put one of my own into each and every forehead there. And three bodies dropped to the ground dead, one by one, their gunfire cutting off with their lives.

I lowered my gun, satisfied with a job well done, and moved to leave.

I walked down the stairs, steps now comparatively much more awkward without the benefits of my power.

I reached the door to the small two story ABB hideout, and paused as I heard the sound of a motorcycle.

I frowned. Him again.

I swung the door open, and stepped out into the cold Brockton Bay night air.

The whine of Armsmaster's high-powered motorcycle reached a high point as the man drove onto the road before me.

Deftly moving off his motorcycle, he observed me, and the building I came from.

A glance at the dead body visible in the doorway, and what I could see of his face scrunched into a strong scowl. "Too late again." He muttered, and turned towards me with a bitter look. "How many you kill this time. Six, seven?"

"Five, thank you. I even got Oni Lee this time." I replied.

"Five... You think this is some sort of _game?_" He spat.

"Of course not, they were evil." I replied.

"And killing them doesn't make _you_ evil, of course." He answered angrily.

"Of course." I spoke. This is not the first time we have had this conversation. "It is not evil, to slay evil."

"Who made _you_ the grand arbiter of justice?" He answered snidely. "If I decided you were evil, and decided to kill you because of that, would that make me right?"

I sighed. "Must we have this conversation every time? Can't we just get this over with?"

He scowled. "Don't be so assured of your victory this time." His halberd leapt into his hands, and he sprung forward.

In response, I set my power on slaying Emma. I couldn't directly use my power on Armsmaster – nor would I want to. Despite being far closer to the gray side than any hero should be in my own opinion, he was still a good person. And so killing him was beyond both my abilities and my willingness to do so. Setting my power on someone evil, and yet far enough away to require I get away from him was the best way to get out of this situation.

The power to slay evil settled over me once more, and my hand lifted the pistol into position.

He paused fractionally; I had never brought a gun before.

That fraction was all I need, I fired-

I hesitated; the pistol was aimed for his chin, the only weak point on his armor. It would surely kill him on impact, but why would my power demand the death of a good person?

It suddenly hit me; there was _no other way out_. The only way for me to defeat Armsmaster and achieve my 'goal' of slaying Emma was to kill Armsmaster as well.

My hand shook, and I lowered the pistol. I couldn't kill a good person; it was out and out beyond me. I could see the good things he had done. See that he had done far more for the world than I had as of yet.

I wouldn't do it, killing Armsmaster actually _would_ make me no better than the gangbangers I slay.

I sighed. "I surrender."

Armsmaster stepped back in shock. "Wha-no." He reaffirmed his stance. "I'm not falling for any of your tricks."

The downside of being a powerful precog: everyone assumes everything's a trick. "It's not a trick. There's no way out of this situation that doesn't result in your death. As you're still a good person, I can't bring myself to do that." A reminder to bring something other than a gun next time.

Armsmaster hesitated momentarily. After a moment's thought, he quickly spun his halberd around, and shot me with a needle in the end of it.

I didn't resist, and soon after my sight faded into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

The Eyes that Judge Interlude 1 Armsmaster

"Colin? You fucked up." PRT ENE Director Emily Piggot blatantly stated.

Armsmaster winced internally. It wasn't exactly something he could _deny,_ though...

"It may have turned out better than expected." Piggot admitted. "But if Judgement had turned out to be as immoral as we had all expected, you would've been brought back in a bag."

Judgement, the name left a slightly bitter taste in Armsmaster's mouth. Entirely too heroic for someone entirely too villainous in his opinion. Of course, not everyone shared his opinion, a fact which also left a hollow ring to Piggot's 'as we had all expected.' Factions within the PRT – factions with far too much influence for their own good – saw much to be admired in Judgement's radical actions.

Those normals who didn't understand Parahumans or the purpose of the truce saw Judgement's wholesale slaughter of villainous elements to be something she should be admired for, granting Judgement a powerful barrier against any heavy Protectorate response.

Of course, this could all be avoided if the Chief Director would just come down on a _damn side_ of the argument at any point. As is, her silence on the matter had enabled a small fissure to occur in the PRT as Judgement sparked off a brewing conflict amongst those who believed the status quo should be maintained, and those who believed that the extent to which criminal actions are accommodated should be heavily reduced if not removed altogether.

Armsmaster supposed they were lucky. As the 'center of the conflict' – a laughable idea of he ever saw one, this had expanded _far_ beyond Brockton Bay – Emily had strove to maintain neutrality on the topic, and mostly succeeded.

Nothing big had come of it yet, the medias usual sensationalism of 'mass executions of criminals' or 'every villain given a complete pardon' notwithstanding, but there was a noticeable effect. A fourth strike overlooked here, a second strike came down on there. Nothing big, but the unwritten rules were clearly being followed to an even less binding extent than usual, and the villains were taking note.

Unsuccessfully so, most of the time, but it was causing a bit of an uproar. Mostly villains seeing a 'fourth strike being candidly handed out' and assuming _far_ too much from it, or not realizing that things had gotten a bit stricter.

Once again, nothing big had come of it yet. But something big _could_. He shuddered to think of what someone like Tag might do with a Director position, and considering how effectively he was using this to boost his career, that terrifying idea became closer to reality each day.

He was still grateful that Piggot had, like a few others, buckled down and basically grabbed the status quo in a strangle hold. Speaking of the status quo. "I as admit it was a stupid mistake, but a lucky one. But now-"

"Not just a stupid mistake." Piggot cut in. "But one that has caused what might be _literally_ the worst possible scenario."

Armsmaster nodded. "That was what I was getting to. What are you going to do now?"

"A good question, one I would _really_ like an answer to." Piggot scowled. "You know the situation well enough; if I do _anything_ to her at this point it would look like I was coming down on either side. As the catalyst of this whole debacle, my actions towards her will be viewed as my actions towards the whole topic." She sighed. "Honestly, considering the ridiculousness that is the concept of 'precognition detailed enough to give you an absolute method of victory' combined with her _complete_ embarrassing of the entire Protectorate during our first real antagonistic encounter with her, the only reason I let you keep chasing her is because I thought there was no chance you would ever actually accomplish it."

Armsmaster bitterly swallowed that pill. He had tactically acknowledged the truth of that, but to have the fact that he was more useful being _not_ outright stated was painful.

"And then you just _had_ to stumble across the one method by which you could _actually beat her_, and now look where I am." Piggot grumbled. "Now, unless you have some miraculous method by which I can extract myself from the situation, I would ask that you get the hell out of my office."

Not having anything more to say, Armsmaster left the room for his laboratory. As he journeyed, he thought back to the Protectorate's first 'encounter' with the girl.

_~One month earlier_

"Hoooooleeee fuuuck." Assault spoke, wide eyed, as they came across the scene.

Nine dead bodies of what was probably E88 origin – considering Stormtiger's masked form lay among them – with knife wounds neatly placed across their throats, and a teenage girl with a black cloth covering her face standing in the middle wiping a knife clean of blood.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the implications.

Armsmaster frowned, and spoke into his microphone. "Communications channels only, people. Assault, I want you in that building over there." He pointed at the broken down shack to the north. "Probably a fair few things to throw in there. Velocity, circle around and prepare to strike with Assault on my mark. Dauntless, hover above and strike if Velocity and Assault fail. Battery and Triumph, stay with me."

There was a brief moment of hesitation, pulling a maneuver like that against a teenage girl? Still, powers need not follow appearance, and so they followed orders without real question – or comment from Assault, amazingly.

Armsmaster groaned internally. This was _supposed_ to be a routine 'all Protectorate patrol' theoretically an attempt to insure that they entire Protectorate could work together, and even _that_ wasn't possible because some idiot in the scheduling department had Hannah out at the time. Usually, nothing happened as they were well scheduled, and the villains knew to take a break on those days lest the full might of the Protectorate drop on them. Even Lung, while he could probably win, stayed out of the way simply for conveniences sake.

Then, _this_ happened. A faintly heard gurgled scream was all they had gotten, but it was all they needed to rush to the scene.

They had arrived to a scene of carnage, and now Armsmaster was going to attempt negotiation.

"Who are you? What is the meaning of this?" He demanded.

"Uh." The teen began to reply. "I... haven't quite chosen a name yet." she rubbed the back of her head. "And I was just clearing out some of the local gangs, ya know?"

"No, I do not 'know'." Armsmaster answered with a frown. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you in for questioning."

"Why?" The teen questioned with confusion. "I've done nothing wrong, I've committed no crime."

"That." Armsmaster dryly replied. "Is where you and I have our difference of opinion."

The teen glanced hard at them, as if squinting, and sighed. "I see, you aren't as good as I thought." Her stance shifted.

Armsmaster mentally flicked his mic on. "Velocity, go in. Assault, limit yourself to suppressive fire until we know whether she can take the hit or not."

"Aye, aye. Cap'n." Assault replied.

"...Affirmative" Answered Velocity after a moment of silence.

Armsmaster frowned. "What's with the hesitation?"

"I forgot you can't hear me nod." Velocity bluntly answered.

"...Initiate." Armsmaster said, not having anything else he _could_ say to that.

The teen back flipped into the air.

Armsmaster blinked. Wha-

Mid-flip, she reached for the back of Velocity's oncoming head, and shoved it into the path of Assault's 'suppressive' brick.

A loud crack, and brick shattered against Velocity's skull. Breaker effect proving to be a less than effective barrier against Assault's assaults, he crashed to the ground.

The teen landed from her flip.

"Oh shit. Fuck me. Sorry. Fuckfuckfuckfuc-"

"... Hoooooleeee fuuuck." Triumph's pronouncement drowned out Assault's panicked rant.

"_The hell!_" Battery turned with a shout towards Assault's location. "Watch were your aim-" She was interrupted as Dauntless' Arclance impaled her on the side of a building between the two prongs.

She briefly shook, as the remnants of the power in the lance faded without Dauntless' touch. She came to a rest; each arm swung over one prong of the lance, and didn't move.

Armsmaster shot a look back at Dauntless, revealing him on the ground in a similar state to Battery – and the teen coming right for him.

He hastily brought up his halberd to defend, and the teen soundly stuck her knife into it.

His halberd, an unstable prototype brought along for testing purposes on a day that by all means _should have been routine_, was struck in precisely the right spot.

Delicate computer chips, not perfectly aligned as of yet, popped out of place and impacted even more delicate power sources.

With a crackling spark, his halberd exploded in his hands. A failsafe set in place for just this eventuality prevented the explosion from being harmful, but parts still went flying, and Armsmaster was still flung to the ground.

The sound of a fire hydrant rapidly emptying its entire supply sounded.

With a sinking heart and a glance at the foam pouring out of Assault's building, Armsmaster could accurately guess where the containment foam canister had gone.

The teen began dashing away.

"Not on my watch." Armsmaster muttered. As Triumph ran to intercept, Armsmaster shot out a nanocord from his wrist.

The teen turned and grabbed the cord midair.

Armsmaster smirked, and the nanomachines that made up the cord rapidly flexed and twisted in an attempt to bind the teen.

To his surprise and horror, she twisted along with the cord; a deft movement he could barely follow wrapped the cord around an oncoming Triumph.

He rapidly reversed the cord, and the teen compensated, pulling the cord and guiding its movements along a predetermined path before Armsmaster even realized he was being lead along.

Armsmaster pulled and flexed the cord, but simply couldn't keep up with the teen. And before he knew it, Triumph was completely wrapped in the cord.

Withdrawing a piece of Armsmaster's own broken halberd blade she had picked up at some point, she sliced through the line of nanomachines.

His control broken, the nanocord on Triumph tightened until total restriction.

Now totally undeterred, the girl dashed off one again, Armsmaster unable to give chase from his position on the ground.

"...We just _totally_ got our asses beat by a fifteen year old girl." Triumph sighed out. "Piggot is going to _love_ this."

_Present Day, heh... Present Time! Hahahahaha!_

With a grunt of remembered pain at both the memory and the Directors... response, Armsmaster entered his laboratory.

"Oh, Colin." Dragon's face was already on a nearby screen. "I was meaning to talk to you- What's wrong?" She questioned with concern.

"We managed to catch Judgement." Armsmaster sourly responded.

"Why would... Director Piggot is going to have to make a choice." Dragon stated.

"Yes. And she's less than happy for it. She wanted to maintain her neutrality on the topic as much as possible." Armsmaster replied. "As minor as it ultimately wound up being, Brockton Bay as the 'catalyst' for the whole thing retains some influence in its decision."

Dragon remained silent for a few moments. "...There would have to be further discourse, but I believe I have an idea."


	3. Chapter 3

Well, it finally happened. I gave up, and realized that first person writing is (currently) just plain beyond me. (Noticeably, the only chapter out in a reasonable time frame was the interlude _without_ first person).

And so, as of now, this is being effectively discontinued. Maybe I'll rework it into something that works in third, although most likely not, as the story really _did_ need that first person to work.

Not to say there's _no_ chance of me coming back to this if I ever decide to try my hand at first person again, but it would be a long time in coming.

Farewell, for now. Until I come up with something to write that works in third.


End file.
